A Week On Tatooine
by ii Digestive Reader ii
Summary: A sandstorm. A glitchy communicator. A new apprentice. An astromech that keeps having to be cleaned. Bad memories. Such is the luck of Anakin Skywalker. He just had to be the Jedi to return Jabba's son, didn't he? Canon-verse or a "Secrets o the Negotiator" story.
1. Incoming Sandstorms

Chapter One: Incoming Sandstorm

* * *

 _When: Between 'The Clone Wars' movie and the start of 'The Clone Wars' TV series._

* * *

Jabba's son had been returned, Count Dooku's plot foiled, and everything was supposed to tie up in a nice, neat little bow. In her imagination, they would fly into Tatooine's twin sunset and to the stars, off to their next adventure in the galaxy. Her master would begin teaching her about the galaxy's many worlds, amused at her eagerness to learn. She would impress him with her piloting, and he'd let her fiddle with a ship or two. The clones would be there to joke around with, and Master Kenobi would be standing alongside her master, an even-tempered presence among the 501st and the Third Systems Army.

She hadn't realized, however, that Tatooine was at the edge of nowhere, nearly beyond the Outer Rim.

And it was hot. Very, very hot, even in the shade of the abandoned market stall they were underneath. Sandy too.

A wind picked up, and she gritted her teeth against the sand ripping over her skin. How she wished she had a poncho like the locals wore. She worked some saliva into her mouth before speaking. "Master?"

Anakin's jaw tightened at the epithet, and he cursed when the wires of his comlink slipped from his fingers. Beside him, R2-D2 chirped like he was laughing. "What, Snips?"

"Why didn't we stay at Jabba's palace?"

"Let's just say the Hutts and I don't get along." He peeled one of his gloves off and tossed it on the ground, muttering something about receptors and an outpost and damn this dust ball.

Ahsoka angled herself away from the leers of some passing men, rubbing where the sand caught on her forearm. "Force that stings."

"Welcome to Tatooine."

She frowned, watching the chattering of the people about them, the vendors proclaiming their wares, and the constant moans of banthas. "So you grew up here?"

"Unfortunately. Anymore questions about my personal life?"

Ahsoka huffed, folding her arms over her chest. "Master, you could at least tell me why we are here and not en route to the ship? Are we waiting for a transport or something? And why are you fiddling with a communicator instead of using R2?"

Master Skywalker muttered something in the guttural language everyone seemed to be speaking around them. He continued to tinker with the comlink, not answering her.

"Oh sure, don't answer me." Some sand caught in her throat, and she coughed hard. She couldn't quite believe that people would actually choose to live on this dismal planet. It was a dump, filled with the vilest scum the galaxy could offer. Just from her post she could see a prostitute on a corner, a few beggar women hobbling about, and some pick-pockets that could not have been much younger than herself. There were vendors screaming a bit too loudly, sand people hurrying droids along, and bantha herders whipping their giant beasts.

The air about them reeked with grease, sweat, excrement, and ship fuel. Should she concentrate, she could probably pick out a lady's perfume or some dried spices used in cooking. Regardless of the chaos, racial slurs, and machine noise there was a child's laughter and a sidewalk musician playing a flute.

 _There's always light in the darkness_ , Ahsoka mused before a smuggler spit at her feet. She stiffened at the words he spat, knowing by his cackle they were not too kind.

Anakin's head snapped up, and he shouted something back at the man. A vein in his forehead throbbed while he stared the smuggler down, daring him to say something. The communicator in hand was dangerously close to being crushed in his grip. Even sitting on the ground covered in sweat and dirt, he exuded power.

The smuggler scoffed and walked away muttering, scratching at the back of his head.

"What did he say?" Ahsoka asked, staring after him. She glanced at her master, whose expression was still tense. "What did you say?"

"Nothing I should repeat in Basic." Anakin settled back against the wall and tore off his other glove. He didn't seem to notice his padawan's audible gasp when his bionic hand was visible. "Could you do me a favor Snips and climb on the stall?"

R2 squealed, rolling back and forth. Sand crunched beneath his treads, and he squealed again, oil squirting out onto the ground.

Ahsoka blinked, assuming it had something to do with the smuggler. She stepped into the road, gritting her teeth when another gust of wind raked sand over her skin. A few people skirted around her once they saw her lightsaber, but more grumbled and spat. Using her finger, she planned out her jumps and grinned before starting to run. The wood of the stall scraped against her palms when she grabbed onto it, and she flipped onto the awning without trouble. It bowed under her weight, and she moved to the framework quickly.

"What am I looking for?" Ahsoka stood shakily, cupping a hand to her eyes and squinting. The harsh suns glinted off the sand and gave everything a white shine. "All I see is sand."

"Surprise." The comlink chimed, and Anakin sighed in relief before speaking again. "Look to the horizon. What do you see?"

Another wind whipped through the area, stronger than before. Ahsoka closed her eyes and covered her mouth with an arm to prevent choking on sand. She counted the seconds until the wind passed, slowly cracking her eyes open and peering into the distance. "I can't see Jabba's palace anymore...all I see is sand. A giant wall of sand! It's coming closer!"

"It's a sandstorm, Ahsoka. It won't be here for awhile. We have-"

The comlink beeped, and the Chosen One flipped it over in his palm to reveal the holocron of Captain Rex. He grinned. "Glad it's you answering and not the Admiral."

The clone captain shook his head and chuckled. "You're a sight for sore eyes, General. There have been some nasty rumors going 'round. No one seems to know what's happening."

Anakin rubbed the back of his neck. "I've been a bit busy. Haven't had time to write a mission report."

"We've been trying to get a signal down to that dustball for the past few hours."

"Haven't got the comlink working until just now. Sand got in it and fried the circuits. Had to rewire it manually."

"What about your R2 unit?"

"Worse. He can barely move."

R2-D2 chirp sounded indignant, and he rammed his shell into his master's legs.

"Aren't you just full of excuses? Could you send a signal up, General? Maybe we can send a shuttle down."

"There's a sandstorm coming in. You can't see past it from space. It's be nearly impossible to land."

Rex took off his helmet and tucked it under his arm. He let out a low whistle. "Must be really bad if you say it's impossible. How long will you be stuck on planet?"

"A few standard days. Five at the most. Stay in orbit around the planet, and do not engage in any sort of combat. I'll send a signal up once the storm passes. Meet me at the Mos Eisley hangar in seven days."

"Roger that, General." Rex set his helmet down and leaned against the holotable. He must have been alone to think it okay to abandon formality and protocol. "How's the kid?"

"I'm right here," Ahsoka exclaimed while she jumped down, neatly avoiding R2 and scaring away a Jawa. She slid next to her master, waving at the clone captain. "Hey Rexie."

"Commander. Glad to see you safe."

Anakin turned the comlink so it focused better on him. "Relay my words to General Kenobi, if you can. Commander Cody will do too."

Captain Rex cracked a smile. "Not the Admiral? He'll be disappointed he-"

Somewhere beyond their view, a door hissed open. Footsteps sounded, deliberate and fast. "Captain Rex! Who are you talking too?! Is that that the General-"

"Another time, Admiral."

Admiral Yularen came into focus, exasperation on his schooled face. "General-"

Anakin cut the transmission and stood, grabbing his gloves. He shoved the communicator into his pocket before beginning to tug on his gloves. Smoke came from somewhere inside R2 when the astromech wheeled after him. "Come on, Snips. Let's go see if someone will give us a ride out to the Tosche Station."

A flash of metal caught in the sunlight, nearly blinding her.

"What's the metal on your hand?" Ahsoka asked, rising to her feet. She did her best not to cower at the look he gave her. "Your..um…on your flesh hand."

"A ring." He began to walk, weaving through the throngs of people expertly. He didn't seem to notice her hurrying to catch up. A peddler came up to them offering ponchos, and he took two after a rapid fire discussion in the same language the smuggler had spoken in.

"Where are we staying?" Ahsoka asked when he had tossed her the poncho. It was made of tough hemp, but it was a welcome barrier between her skin and the sand.

Anakin stared straight ahead, something of a smile crossing his face. "You'll see."

* * *

 _Author's note: Hey folks! What's this, a story on a Wednesday? And it's not Obi-Wan related? Le gasp!_

 _I haven't figured out a schedule, but I'm thinking this one will be updated every two Wednesdays._

 _I've always wondered what happened between the end of The Clone Wars movie and the beginning of the show. Something had to have happened. It would be their luck to get caught in a sandstorm, wouldn't it?_

 _Ta for now!_

 _ii Digestive Reader ii_


	2. Lost in Translation

Chapter Two: Lost in Translation

* * *

"Does this droid speak Bocce?"

The Jawa scuttled on his feet and chattered in its grating voice. " _Extra. You'll have to pay extra."_

"Extra?"

" _It's in high demand."_ The Jawa held out it's hand, yellow eyes gleaming. " _Extra."_

"It wasn't extra until I asked." Owen sighed, staring at the compact translator droid he had wanted to purchase. He couldn't afford it, but he couldn't afford to go one more week with the translator droid he had either.

" _Show me the credits."_

He knew the risk of showing his credits around a Jawa, especially one that had no caravan in sight. The vendors in the market claimed the creature was mostly trustworthy. It wasn't like anyone in their corner of the galaxy had much of a choice when it came to buying anything. They took what they could at the lowest price possible and made do. A barely-used translator would help the farm immensely, maybe even help being in more crop before the dry season came.

 _Though this entire planet is in an eternal dry season,_ Owen thought, putting his hands on his hips and looking down at the expectant Jawa. With a heavy sigh he dug out the credits needed and held them up, out of the reach but visible to the Jawa. He had to hold onto the credits tighter when wind came out of nowhere, ripping a tent from the ground near them."I'll pay your price in full right now. No debts. You can keep the restraints on the droid."

The Jawa looked at the line of droids behind it, clucking and muttering. It glanced back at Owen, and gave a short nod. " _Deal."_

"Restraints."

Waving its hand, the Jawa hunkered down and undid the restraints of the droid. It gave the droid a smart swat to totter it forward and held out its hand. " _Credits."_

"Pleasure doing business with you." Owen tossed in an extra credit and patted the head of the droid to get it to follow him upon turning around. The Jawa's whoop of joy made a smile flicker at the edges of his lips. A gust of wind blew over the land again, causing him to cough hard and pull his mantle over his mouth.

Meters before entering the Tosche Market he squinted over the land and cursed his luck. The sandstorm would be on his tail the whole way home. There was little doubt he would be caught in the beginnings of it.

He wove through the crowd of mothers and farmers desperately trying to buy and sell before the storm hit, keeping a close hand on the droid. It trotted on at a ridiculously slow pace, and he cursed the fact he had parked the speeder in Tosche Station. A friend had allowed him to burrow their parking spot while off-planet, and he wasn't about to say no to free.

With the help of a sympathetic parking attendant, it took only minutes to load the droid onto the speeder. Owen rechecked the fuel tank and the emergency kit, which was stocked with food and water, before glancing at his comlink. Relieved to find it had some signal, he flipped the hood of his poncho up and hopped before onto the speeder.

"May the Force be with you!" The parking attendant shouted over the noise of the opening door.

Waving to the attendant, he pulled down his goggles and drove into the desert.

The suns beat down on his back, hot and oppressive. The droid muttered on occasion, a welcome distraction to the mind-numbing drive back to the farm. The wind tore at his clothes, trying to bite to his skin. The little bit of skin that was exposed was made red by the sand. He ignored the irritation as best he could, focusing on keeping the speeder upright.

Finally, finally, he could see the sprawling farm through the sand walls. The tenseness in his shoulders loosened gradually. He put the speeder into a lower setting and drove it into the vehicle storage area Anakin had fixed up on his last trip to the farm.

"I'm home," Owen shouted when the door he wrestled the stubborn door down and latched it. He shrugged at the lack of a response, maneuvering the droid onto the floor and powering it down. There would be plenty of time in the next week to get it to the workshop.

 _That's the good thing about sandstorm's,_ he mused while taking the winding tunnels to the kitchen, where Beru probably was. _They let me work on projects I'd rather put off._

He came to the kitchen, finding evidence of a large meal, though no occupants. That alone made him nervous. "Beru?"

"In the sitting room," she called back.

Patting the knife hidden by his tunic, Owen moved to the sitting room cautiously. His mouth dropped a little upon seeing their guest. "Who are-"

"Owen." Beru stood from the limestone bench and her way to him. One of her dry, calloused hands touched his face, moving his gaze to hers. Her voice was quiet, nearly a whisper. "This is Ahsoka Tano, your brother's padawan. She's Togruta."

"Ken's here? On Tatooine?" Owen took his girlfriend's hand and brought it to his side, looking at the ridiculously young padawan dressed in something of Beru's. It practically dwarfed the padawan's small frame. "Isn't he supposed to be in the Outer Rim?"

"Owen, we are in the Outer Rim," Beru murmured.

Ahsoka sipped at what was in her cup and smiled brightly. "We had to rescue Jabba's son. Stinky was kidnapped by the Separatists and blamed it on the Jedi. They led us halfway across the galaxy searching for him! Count Dooku sent his harpy Ventress after us, but we beat her. Stinky got sick, Senator Amidala discovered what really happened, and now we're here. Master said there's a sandstorm coming. You're his brother?"

He ran his tongue over his lips, staring at the bubbly kid before him. What was a bright soul like that doing in the Jedi Order? Why would they even let her on a battlefield? Clearing his throat, he muttered in Huttese, "How long have they been here?"

"Three hours."

"What language do you guys keep speaking?" Ahsoka asked, looking between them curiously.

"Huttese," Beru supplied, turning back around to face the padawan. "It's common for everyone around here to speak both Huttese and Basic. People who travel often usually know Corellian and a few others."

"Master Kenobi is fluent in multiple languages too. Or so I've been told."

"Kenobi's here too?" Owen asked incredulously. Like everyone in the galaxy, he had seen the Negotiator and the Chosen One galavanting about on the Holonet, flirting with danger at every turn. There was always gossip and intrigue surrounding the duo. But unlike everyone in the Galaxy, he knew the intimate details of Anakin Skywalker's life. It wasn't all the glamourous, in hindsight. Anakin hated the rules of the Order, the need for secrecy about his marriage, the politics that were behind every battle in the war. The padawan before him probably still thought the war was a game, a simple thing that would be over in a few months. He wondered what horrors she had seen so far, and how long it would take her to wake up screaming at night like his brother so often did.

He realized Beru had left his side and was speaking from the limestone bench.

"Pardon?"

She gave him a soft smile, fingers wrapped around her cup. "Anakin and your father are in the tech dome garage. The R2 unit your brother brought had sand built-up in it's treads."

* * *

Owen heard them before he saw them. His brother's voice was rather loud for his tastes.

"...will probably hound me about my whereabouts once they get a communication through." Metal scraped against metal, and a droid shrilled. "R2, hold still."

Cliegg's chuckle was thick with mucus. He coughed several times before answering. "If you get back safe why should they care?"

"My point ex - damn it!"

Owen rounded the corner to see an R2 unit spray black, thick oil at his stepbrother. It rocked back and forth, beeping like it was laughing. His father chuckled, shifting in his repulsorlift chair and catching sight of him walking in.

"Owen! The storm didn't catch you."

"It was on my tail the entire ride home." He bent over to embrace his father, neatly sidestepping the oil spill. "Got a new translator droid. It cost all the credits I had. Hopefully I can fix it up before the dry season."

"Why don't you let Anakin take a look at it?" Cliegg asked, gesturing in amusement to his stepson. "Once he gets cleaned up, of course."

"Very funny." Anakin glared down at the oil on his clothes. "At least the vest is leather. That should be easy to get out. Thanks, R2."

The R2 unit shrilled and did a series of beeps. For a droid it seemed very smug.

Owen crossed his arms, remembering that the since the battle of Geonosis, the Chosen One always had an R2 unit with him. _Didn't he say it was a present from the wife?_ "I'll take care of droid, Dad. It'll give me something to do this week. This sandstorm is supposed to be one of the biggest in awhile."

Anakin began to tug off the vest, still crouched on the ground. "Let me help you out. My dear padawan is going to drive me nuts otherwise."

"Beru has enough to do without amusing a padawan," Owen muttered.

"Who says she'd be with Beru?"

"You already stuck Ahsoka with my girlfriend. You're her master. Teach her something."

"What, how to clean sand out of an R2 unit while you talk about your forbidden marriage?" Anakin stood, clenching the vest and gloves in his bionic hand. He all but loomed over Owen. "I don't think that'll go over well."

"And what-"

"Owen, Anakin." Cliegg rolled forward between them, shaking his head. "We're going to be stuck together for the better part of a week whether we like it or not. No need to breathe stale air the entire time. "

Owen scoffed, itching to punch his stepbrother. He knew his father was right. With a huff he rolled back his shoulders and offered one of his hands. "Truce?"

Something dangerous and frightening passed over Anakin's face. It was like a shadow, gone and replaced with an easy smile in the blink of an eye. He glanced down at his tunic and leggings, which still had oil on it. The smile turned into a mischievous grin, and he held out his flesh hand. "Deal."

"Ken-" Owen barely got out before the Jedi Knight pulled him into an close, overenthusiastic hug. He could practically feel the inky black oil rubbing into his white tunic. The motors of his father's replusor chair whirred away, and Owen was released a moment later. Looking down at himself, he muttered, "Bastard."

"There's truth to that statement," Anakin snickered. He dropped his vest and gloves to the ground before crouching down again. "I'll clean that so Beru doesn't have to. It's the least I can do."

"I was going to suggest a game of Sabbac and some Sunburn." Owen knelt in the sand, watching his stepbrother produce a screwdriver of some kind or another from his boot and begin to work on the R2 unit again. "Maybe you can tell us some of your adventures lately too."

Anakin gave him a curious look, but shrugged nonetheless. "Sure."

* * *

 _Author's Note: Hey guys! So glad to join you for this second chapter!_

 _To clear up any confusion, the Lars do know about Anakin's marriage. (Those who follow my other story know this to be the case) I've always felt like Owen must have had some amount of contact and relationship with Anakin during the Clone Wars. Why else would Obi-Wan know to bring Luke there? It's a plot line that George Lucas should have used to his advantage. The step-brothers contrasting personalities would have been a blast to watch._

 _That aside, this story will probably be longer than seven chapters (A Week on Tatooine...seven days...get it?) Haven't quite decided yet._

 _Ta for now dearies!_

 _ii Digestive Reader ii_


	3. Unease

Chapter Three: Unease

* * *

"Tatooine? He's stuck on Tatooine?" Obi-Wan frowned, glancing at his clone commander who stood beside his chair. "And there's no way to send an extraction team down there?"

"Trust Skywalker to get stuck on-planet mid-mission," Mace Windu muttered.

Captain Rex's hologram flickered. For someone facing the Jedi High Council and the Senator of Naboo, he seemed remarkably calm. The helmet probably played a role in covering his potential unease. "No, sir. Our scanners have detected a massive sandstorm covering the planet. It's the biggest one in over a decade."

Obi-Wan propped an ankle at his opposite knee and brought one hand to his beard. He remembered the sandstorm that had plagued Tatooine the week his master and him had touched down on the planet - and the handmaiden he had spent his nights with. "I see. Did General Skywalker give any indication where he and Commander Tano might be waiting out the storm?"

"He told us to meet him at Tosche Station in seven days."

"Nothing else?"

"No sir."

He let out a sigh, scrubbing a hand over his face. "Thank you, Captain Rex. Stay where you are positioned. The _Negotiator_ is about to make its jump into hyperspace. We'll meet you in Tatooine space before General Skywalker is to be extracted."

Rex saluted, and his transmission was cut.

The Council was suddenly silent, no one really speaking. Obi-Wan found himself glancing at the Senator of Naboo, hoping she would say something to break the quiet. He was curious in her role the past few days.

Plo Koon spoke instead, his deep voice crackling over the transmission. "We received your reports, Master Kenobi. Padawan Tano seems to have transitioned well."

"She has, yes. The same cannot be said for Anakin, I'm afraid. He had some trouble adjusting to a mentor role."

Yoda tapped his cane, ears moving down. "Fear we have made the wrong choice, Master Kenobi? Not ready, Knight Skywalker may be, to take on an apprentice, hmm?"

"Is anyone truly ready to take on such a responsibility?" Shaak Ti interjected before Mace Windu could open his mouth.

"I was about the same age Anakin is when I took him on as an apprentice." He felt uneasy about Senator Amidala's thoughtful look.

"Circumstances were different, Master Kenobi," Saesee Tiin reminded him. "There was not a war. We did not have to train padawans on a battlefield."

Obi-Wan bowed his head to the much older Jedi master, eased somewhat by the words.

"Senator Amidala, what is your stance on this?" Adi Gallia asked suddenly, leaning forward in her seat. "I can sense your unease regarding Anakin."

Senator Amidala's face didn't flicker. She raised her head at the young Jedi master, her words cool for someone so passionate. "I am worried for Knight Skywalker, yes, and his padawan. Tatooine is a hostile planet. I have seen firsthand the horrors of his birth planet."

"You're worried for his psyche?" Kit Fisto asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Wouldn't you be?" Senator Amidala shot back.

Obi-Wan jumped in before anyone could say anything, planting his feet firmly on the floor and leaning his forearms on his knees. "Senator Amidala is right. We should have been mindful of that."

* * *

She was used to constant noise. In the Temple she always heard footsteps or chattering voices or lightsabers humming. If she stepped outside, she heard the whir of speeders or the muted hum of thousands of people going about their lives. On a ship she heard the continuous clank of engines and the thud of clone boots against the metal floor. Recently, she had grown used to the sounds of battle, the blasters and screams and the all out chaos.

She hated the quiet that surrounded her now. The Lars family were a family of few words, focusing mostly on their meal and not each other. They didn't seem to mind the wind howling outside or the lack of conversation at the table. Even her master, whom was always busy with something, seemed perfectly content to sit and eat the bantha stew his...sister-in-law? had made.

Jiggling her leg, Ahsoka shook her head and spooned another mouthful of the stew into her mouth.

 _I'm going to go crazy,_ she thought.

Anakin set down his spoon and leaned back in his chair. "That was good, Beru. Thank you."

Beru smiled. "Really? Would you like more?"

"If you're offering..."

"Suck up," Owen muttered while his girlfriend whisked up Anakin's bowl. He didn't seem to notice his bowl had been taken too until his spoon met empty space. "Hey! Beru!"

"If you're not going to be nice to your brother you don't get to enjoy my cooking!" Beru called from the kitchen.

Owen spluttered indignantly, glaring when his father and step-brother chuckled. "You two are no help."

"I've been eating rations for two months! Why would I not compliment good cooking?!" Anakin defended himself.

"Because you're impossible!"

Ahsoka watched them bicker in fascination, wondering how they could do such a thing with such easy smiles on their faces. They didn't seem to notice Beru come back with two steaming bowls and a platter of bread rolls. She glanced at Cliegg, who didn't seem disturbed by the siblings bickering. "Do they do this all the time?"

Cliegg nodded, returning to his meal.

"It's almost like they grew up together," Beru commented, sliding into her seat. "Amazing, since they've only known each other a few years."

"I'm glad I've only known him that long," Owen exclaimed in exasperation. "Sharing a room with him would have been hell. I almost feel bad for Kenobi. He has to do that on a daily basis."

Her master nearly choked on his stew, laughing at a joke Ahsoka didn't get.

"Master, I thought you grew up-"

Cliegg's voice was gruff and quiet. "Anakin's mother and I only married a few years ago."

She frowned, disturbed at the sudden dark shift in her master's emotions. From what she could gather, no one else lived at the farm besides the Lars and Beru. "Where is she, then?"

Anakin closed his eyes, taking in a ragged breath. "Drop it, Snips."

"But-"

" _Drop. It."_

Ahsoka huffed, wanting to argue until she saw pain on Cliegg's face and the way Anakin seemed to be fighting tears. Even Owen, despite his gruff demeanor, seemed to be unusually quiet. She looked to Beru, begging with her eyes for an explanation. The woman merely got up and beckoned the padawan to follow her.

Wordlessly, Ahsoka stood. She had enough of a sense to understand that an apology would not be taken right now. Putting a hand to the white limestone, she followed Beru through the twisting halls of the farm, stopping only once to retrieve linens and bedding for two at a closet. The Lars homestead was spacious and homely for three people. She wondered how it could fit five for the next week.

Beru led her down a flight of stairs into a lower level. The ceiling was low, and the light fixtures flickered when she turned them on. It was musky and a bit eerie, with three beds, an ancient 'fresher, and a small kitchenette that had seen better days. "These were the servants quarters, years ago. You and Anakin will have to make do here, I'm afraid. We don't have much extra space."

Ahsoka nodded, setting the bedding on one of the beds and sitting down on it. "Thank you, Beru, for your hospitality."

"Of course." Beru went to the farthest bed, dumping the things on the floor and plucking out a plush fitted sheet. "But I sense you wish to talk about something else?"

"I just don't understand." Ahsoka drew her legs up to her chest and watched the older women make up the bed with ease. "I just asked a question. Why is Skyguy so reluctant to talk about his past?"

Beru glanced over her shoulder. "Skyguy?" She smoothed a crease out of the comforter and tossed two pillows on before settling on the bed. "Something tells me you have asked questions before and not recieved an answer. Am I right?"

"I'm his padawan! Shouldn't I have the right to know who is training me?"

"Do you want Anakin to know every detail of your life?"

Ahsoka rubbed at her forehead, feeling her face flush in embarrassment. "No."

"Then you need to respect his wish not to talk about his. Secrets are kept for a reason."

* * *

 _Author's Note: Look, I posted something at a normal time! This is an accomplishment!_

 _Thanks so much to everyone who's reading and commenting on my stories! It means so, so much to me._

 _With love,_

 _ii Digestive Reader ii_


	4. Long Range Communication

Chapter Four: Long Range Communication

* * *

Senator Amidala was a politician. She strived to do what was best for her people, regardless of the fierce opposition she faced in the Senate. Some would say she was manipulative and cunning, a true Nubian. There was little that stopped her when her mind was made up. Those who knew her dared not to tread in her path when that happened.

Padmé Amidala Naberrie Skywalker was, on the other hand, a desperate wife who simply wanted a word with her husband. She had learned in the past few hours that he had been nearly killed on Christophsis, given an apprentice, rescued a Huttlett, dueled Ventress for the second time in a year, flown into enemy space, crash-landed on his home-planet, nearly killed again - this time by Jabba - and was only narrowly saved by her own timely call.

And now he was stuck on Tatooine with no way out for a week.

She was furious.

The Jedi Council didn't ask about her involvement. They unanimously agreed, after much debate, to postpone any action regarding Dooku and Ventress until Anakin could be contacted again. The Chancellor was pleased, however, that the hyperspace lanes were available to use. He didn't seem to care much about Dooku's involvement, simply stating that they needed to focus on providing fresh troops and supplies to planets in need.

It was well into the night when the Jedi Council finally ended the meeting. Many of the Jedi struggling to stay awake by then. Padmé left the Temple gratefully, finding herself in need of a shower and a hot meal.

The ship ride home was quiet despite the traffic. She had to hold back a groan when she saw who was standing at her landing platform.

"Captain Typho. Dormé." She stepped out of her speeder, trying not to wince at the aches the day's events had caused her body.

Captain Typho folded his arms and glared at her, none too happy. "You could have been killed! Did you even think of what would happen if you-"

"But I _wasn't._ Captain Typho, there wasn't any need to panic." Padmé walked past the Captain, too tired to argue. "Dormé , can you lay out my nightwear? And find a long-range comlink?"

"Of course, my lady." Dormé dipped her head and scurried inside, her heavy Handmaid's robes shuffling about her feet.

"I am supposed to be protecting you! What would I have told the Queen and the Chancellor if-"

"I can take care of myself." Padmé stepped into her apartments, grateful for the low lighting. The adrenaline was starting to wear off, and she felt a headache forming. She shed her cloak and gave it to Teckla, nodding her head in thanks. " I know how to shoot a blaster and-"

"What would I have told Anakin, then? That his wife risked her life unnecessarily to prove Ziro was evil and Dooku double-crossed everyone?"

Padmé froze in her tracks, horrified at the Captain's harsh words. She was known to not give a damn about her own safety, but it always scared her when someone pointed out the possible consequences of her actions. What _would_ her staff have told Anakin? How would he have taken the news?

Not well.

She was aware of her handmaids watching from the bedchamber, waiting to see her response. She turned to the captain, doing her best to keep up the front of a Senator. "There is no use worrying about what would have happened. I'm safe, I'm home. The Republic averted a crisis for today. That's all that matters right now."

The Captain was stunned, opening his mouth to argue.

"You're all dismissed for the night.

She went into her empty bedchamber without another word and sank down onto the bed, tired beyond words. The war had only been going for a year, and she wanted it too be over by now. She wanted none of these ridiculous, over complicated political plots. She wanted to live on Naboo with her husband - and maybe a few sandy-haired kids.

A sob escaped her throat. It was probably demeaning for someone of her stature to be a blubbering mess, but she didn't really have the strength to do anything else but cry.

Someone knocked cautiously on the door. "My lady?"

Padmé took in a shaky breath, listening to the handmaid punch in the override code and enter. She turned her head away, not wanting to make eye contact. "I thought you might have gone to your rooms."

Dormé snorted, making sure the door shut before going to one of the nightstands and setting down the tray in her hand. "And leave you alone?" She uncorked a bottle of Nubian wine and poured far more than necessary. "I don't think so."

"I'm fine." Padmé sighed at the look her handmaid and friend gave her, and accepted the wine glass gratefully. "Today was...filled with surprises."

"Captain Typho is proud of you, my lady. We all are. Few Senators would have the courage to do what you have done today." Dormé went to the closet and pulled out a simple blue nightgown. "Was General Skywalker surprised at your hand in solving Dooku's plot?."

"He was a bit." Padmé smiled, remembering the endearing look he gave her. She took a sip of the wine, well aware of her cheeks flushing. "I was just happy to see him safe. We haven't spoken in two months."

Dormé poked her head out of the 'fresher. "I brought the long-range comm. It's on the tray."

* * *

"Okay, you win!" Anakin exclaimed for the third time that night. He watched one of his brother 's characters unnecessarily eat his own. "Very funny."

Owen chuckled, taking a swig from his Sunburn. "I think so." He turned off the board and leaned back in his seat. "So what's new with you?"

"Haven't you been watching the 'net?"

"We don't get much service out here."

Anakin had to laugh at that. Taking a drink from his Sunburn, he leaned his elbows on his knees. "Nothing to terribly exciting. My scar from Ventress healed up. I'm two months into a three month deployment. I get shot at every day. Obi-Wan cut off his mullet."

"You got a padawan, Ken. Isn't that exciting?" He smiled when Beru came into the room and settled beside him on the bench. "It's one more step closer to becoming a Master."

"Mmm, fun. A kid's life in my hands in exchange for becoming a Jedi Master. No pressure there."

Cliegg had been quietly sitting and reading on a datapad. He cleared his throat and glanced up at Anakin's words. "How long has Ahsoka been your apprentice? She seems rather young to be a padawan."

"Two weeks, give or take. What's the date?"

Beru gave him a look, the kind an exasperated mother might to her child. "Ahsoka didn't mean what she said, Anakin. How could she have possibly known what she said was wrong?"

"How upset was she?" Anakin found himself asking.

"Not terribly. Confused, mostly. She wants you to apologize."

Anakin eyes went wide mid-drink. Spluttering, he asked, "What did I do?! She should be apologizing!"

"You were rather rude to her, son." Cliegg ignored his step-son's gaping and moved his hand to the controls of his replusor. "I'm going to bed."

"I'll help you get ready." Owen patted his girlfriend's side to get her to stand, and stood from the bench. "You should get to bed too, Ken. You've earned enough rest for the three of us."

Anakin knew he wouldn't be able to sleep. The memories of this planet were too fresh in his mind, even after so many months. Nevertheless, he forced a strained smile on his face and raised his bottle. "I'll finish this and go to bed. I'll apologize to Ahsoka too."

"You better," Owen clapped him on the shoulder and followed their father out of the living room.

Beru stooped down to kiss his cheek. "Don't drink too much."

"I'm not Obi-Wan, Beru."

"You speak good about the man who raised you," Beru muttered before leaving the sitting room.

The howling wind was soon was the only company he had. He knew he should probably sleep, but he didn't dare. Nightmares would plague him not matter how exhausted or drunk he was.

The sudden chime of his comlink made him jump. He frowned, digging it out from his robes. Who would be able to make contact when such a horrible storm prevented most signals?

"Skywalk - Padmé?"

His wife's hologram smiled back at him, a vision better than any alcohol induced dream. "Ani!"

"What - how...Dormé?"

"I may have had Sabé smuggle a long range comlink that wasn't Republic issued." Padmé pulled her hair over her shoulder and began to braid it. "It's the first time I've used it."

"Aren't those illegal?" Anakin set down the comlink on the table, taking a drink from the forgotten Sunburn in his hand. "Not that I really care right now."

"The ban just lifted, courtesy of Mon Montha. She couldn't access her family with Republic issued comms. A lot of people couldn't."

"Thank her for me."

Padmé laughed, her hologram flickering while she tossed her braid over shoulder. "I'll do that."

* * *

 _Author's Note: Well that was a fun chapter. Thanks for the reviews and the massive response I got on Sunday. It means so much to me that people are reading these stories._

 _ii Digestive Reader ii_


	5. Waiting Game

Chapter Five: Waiting Game

* * *

Like every day, Beru woke far before sunrise. Her boyfriend grumbled vaguely about losing a warm body pillow, but fell back asleep before she could say anything. There was little light to get ready by, only a candle and a glow-stick that she had dug up from one of the closets. Owen had diverted most of the power to the main rooms the day before, when they had gotten a transmission from their neighbors saying that most everyone was converting to emergency power and preparing for the worst.

 _Hopefully he'll let Anakin help him today if he decides to work on the translator droid,_ she thought while heading to the kitchen. The brothers loved each other fiercely, but too much time together caused tensions to run high. She wanted to blame it on sibling rivalry, but she knew it ran far deeper than that. Owen and Anakin had two very different lifestyles. Their beliefs and their values tended to clash more often than naught, and they had trouble finding common ground over the simplest of matters.

 _The sandstorm certainly isn't helping. They can't get away from each other for long._

Beru realized she was standing in the middle of the kitchen, and shook her head in dismay. Her life had become something else entirely upon meeting the Lars-Skywalker family. Taking in a deep breath to calm herself, she took an apron from the hook and began to pull out the ingredients needed for breakfast.

Cooking always calmed her. The kitchen was her place. No one else's. She felt at home there, surrounded by cookbooks and herbs and roots. It didn't matter that she wasn't well-educated or shockingly beautiful - a full stomach and a grateful smile was all she needed at the end of a long day.

Cooking, however, didn't have the same effect on the people in her life. Owen came in while she was preparing blue buttermilk biscuits, agitated and bleary-looking. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he propped his chin on her shoulder.

"Credit for your thoughts?"

Owen snorted, watching her shake coarse flour into the bowl. "How do you do that without measuring?"

"How do you look at something and know just where to fix it?"

A chuckle escaped him. "Practice." Kissing her cheek, he moved to lean against the wall.

Beru tossed the remainder of the dry ingredients together and turned on the stove. "What are you planning to do today?" She took the bowl of blue buttermilk and like ingredients in hand while glancing at him. "You haven't looked at the translator droid yet."

"No, I haven't." A particularly loud shriek of wind made him glance at the window. "It doesn't sound like it's letting up anytime soon. Lovely."

"I'm taking advantage of it while I can. I have plenty of mending to do, _and_ two extra set of hands to help me." Beru didn't a response. Shaking her head, she whisked the biscuits together and pulled the dough into rough balls on a tray. "I'm sure Anakin would help you if you asked."

"I'm sure he would."

She had just put the tray into the oven upon hearing his words. Letting the door slam shut, she turned and propped her hands on her hips. "You need to work out whatever is going on between you two."

"We're not fighting."

"You two got into an argument last night at my dinner table. Over Old Cliegg's health, no less. He was right there." Beru smiled sympathically when he hung his head at the memory. Wiping her hands on a towel, she went to him and placed her hands on his biceps. "Why do you really resent Anakin?"

"You know why."

"Remind me then."

Owen looked at her, a rare sliver of emotion showing through his tough exterior. He sighed, like he pondering how to put his feelings into words. "Ever since-"

"Good morning! What smells so good? Is that milk blue?"

Beru had to giggle at her boyfriend's look of exasperation. She watched him leave in a huff, barely acknowledging the padawan that had just walked in.

"Where's he going?" Ahsoka asked, glancing between the pair.

"If I were to guess, he's probably going to see if Cliegg is awake. Did you sleep well?"

"I did, but Master Skywalker didn't. He kept waking up and mumbling about stuff. He wouldn't tell me anything...he seemed rather fearful."

"Is that so?" Beru bit her lip, not sure how to answer the padawan. She knew that Jedi were not supposed to be fearful of anything, but Anakin's nightly terrors would probably have to be addressed some time to her. _But it'd probably be best coming from Anakin and not me,_ she realized. "Ahsoka...do you want to learn how to make a traditional Tatooine breakfast? I already have biscuits in the oven."

Once breakfast was served, it was getting close to eight in the morning. The storm - and Ahsoka's eagerness to help - had allowed her to make a thick sausage-gravy and cut up a melon that would have gone to waste otherwise.

Ahsoka was fasicnated by the spread of food on the table once they sat down. "This is all for us?"

Beru frowned, glancing at the others in confusion. "Who else would it be for? We won't have visitors in this storm."

"The Temple doesn't approve of overindulging ourselves on food."

"Shocker," Owen muttered, crumbling up a biscuit into the gravy. "They don't seem to approve of alot of things."

Cliegg grunted, swallowing what was in his mouth. "We labor in the hot sun all day. Big meals are a must. Keeps up our energy."

Anakin came into the dining room at the end of the sentence, eyes bloodshot and skin pale beneath his tan. He wasn't wearing his typical Jedi attire, but a white tunic and a pair of brown leggings. Rubbing at the scruff of a beard that had begun to form, he sat down heavily and tugged his breakfast toward him without a word.

Beru glanced between the Lars men at the table, knowing that they knew Anakin well enough to guess he wanted to be left alone.

The padawan did not know this, however. "Master? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Snips. This is good, Beru. Thanks."

"You're welcome."

"You look like you barely slept, Master."

"That's because I didn't. Are we done asking questions I'd rather not answer?"

Ahsoka dipped her head in shame, clearly wounded by his words. She resumed eating in silence.

"This is interesting," Cliegg muttered while looking at the datapad on front of him. "'Senator Amidala released a statement regarding her involvement in Ziro the Hutt's arrest. Do you know anything about this, Anakin?"

"Why would Master Skywalker know anything about that?" Ahsoka whispered to Beru.

Her heart sank. She knew how dangerous it was revealing the truth to the padawan, and was resigned to shrugging her shoulders.

"I couldn't say anything until a statement was released."

* * *

"Sir!"

"What is it, trooper?"

"We're dropping out of hyperspace and approaching Tatooine airspace."

"Estimated arrival time?"

"Three standard hours and six minutes, sir!"

"Is that all?"

"Sir yes sir!"

"Dismissed, then." Captain Rex watched the clone trooper stride away, shaking his head in amusement.

"He's been a multiple battles and he still acts like a shiny," Kix muttered beside him.

"I give it four lunar cycles. Can't stay like that forever."

"The General's learner might."

Rex thought of the bright-eyed padawan, wanting to believe his fellow clone was right. Innocence was a rare thing in their world. "It'll change soon enough. You can't stay ignorant like that forever."

The medic let out a low whistle. "Tough words. I thought you liked the Commander."

"I do. But she needs to gain some experience first."

"Let me rephrase that. I thought you were rather infatuated with her."

"Infatuated? We're soldiers, Kix. Did Jesse put that idea in your head?"

"You put the idea in our heads, sir."

Rex shook his head in dismay, beginning to turn from the medic. "I'm going to try and make contact General Kenobi. Hopefully _The Negotiator_ will rendezvous soon."

* * *

 _Author's Note: Well, this was a rather short chapter. I thought it'd be interesting to do scenes from the point of view of Beru and Rex. I might expand this chapter later, but for now it is what it is._

 _Thanks for all the feedback and story favorites/follows lately. It's insane that people actually like what I'm writing._

 _Ta for now, dearies!_

 _ii Digestive Reader ii_


	6. There's No Such Thing as Luck

Chapter Six: There's No Such Thing as Luck

* * *

"We ran into some trouble while in hyperspace, but nothing too serious."

Mace Windu looked unimpressed. "Define serious, Master Kenobi."

Obi-Wan liked rules and predictability. The world made sense when everything ran smoothly. Nevertheless, he smiled at the Jedi Masters and the Captain of the 501st. "Our hyper-drive started to malfunction over an undetermined planet. We nearly dropped into a battle."

Quite a few of the Jedi Council members chuckled at his overly cheery tone. Even Mace Windu looked amused.

Captain Rex's hologram flickered. "Should we expect a delay, General?"

"One isn't foreseeable, Captain. We should arrive at your coordinates within a standard day."

"Contacted Young Skywalker, have you, hmm? Know his location, his whereabouts on planet?"

He sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. "I'm afraid not. I haven't been able to contact Anakin or Ahsoka."

Yoda hummed, ears flattening and head shaking. "Troubling this is, for our young memories Tatooine holds, hmm. Many memories."

"Would Senator Amidala perhaps know where he is residing?" Mace asked, leaning forward in his chair. "They are good friends."

 _Too good of friends,_ Obi-Wan thought, trying to ignore the clanking of the ship. He brought a hand to his beard. "I highly doubt it, but the Senate did just pass a law approving a new long-range transmitter. It may be worth investigating."

"But would Anakin approve of us asking Senator Amidala for information regarding his whereabouts?" Kit Fitso asked suddenly. "He doesn't trust the Council decisions to the fullest."

"Much to consider, we have. Dismissed the Council is, for now."

Obi-Wan bowed, and the transmission was cut. When his commander found him, he had his arms braced against the holotransmitter, trying not to worry about his former padawan.

"General?" Cody asked cautiously, hesitating at the threshold.

"It is good news, Cody? I only want good news."

The clone commander laughed ruefully under his helmet. "You're in luck. We are about to transition out of hyperspace."

"Has anyone made contact with Captain Rex?"

"I just-"

A horrible cracking noise cut him off. Obi-Wan didn't have to imagine the clone's to horrified expression - he had one of his own. They stood paralyzed while the alarm began to sound throughout the ship, accompanied by dozens of screaming clones and orders being barked.

Cody took off his helmet and tucked it under his arm. "You're needed at the bridge, sir."

Obi-Wan gave him an unimpressed look. "Thanks for the update, Cody."

"Anytime, sir."

* * *

When he had rubbed his eyes for the umpteenth time that hour, Anakin realized he needed a break. He carefully examined the astromech in front of him, wondering just how many times he would have to clean sand out of R2 this week. Sand always seemed to be there, no matter where in the house R2 roamed.

A crash interrupted his musing. He glanced over, watching Owen fumble for tools and frown at the droid sprawled out on the table in front of him. "Are you sure you don't need help on the translator droid? R2 can wait."

The astromech shrilled indignantly, rocking back and forth on its treads.

Owen shook his head, teeth gritted. "Work on R2. This shouldn't-" He jumped when an exposed wire zapped his hand. "Blast!"

Anakin smirked, standing to drop the cleaning tools he had been using on the workbench behind him. "You sound like Obi-Wan."

"And why...is that?" Owen snapped, glaring at him while the wires sparked with electricity.

"You have no sense of mechanics and you use curse words like 'blast.'"

"I've always dreamed to sound like a Jedi," Owen muttered sarcastically while he stared at the droid before him. "Guess I didn't have to try to hard to accomplishment that."

Anakin could feel the anger and tension coming off his brother in waves. He was about to point it out, and realized doing so would only make Owen more frustrated. It was easier to frown, cross his arms over his chest, and ask: "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. Can you help me or not?"

"I thought you didn't want help." Anakin sauntered over to the workbench, noting how much easier it was to move in civilian clothes as opposed to his Jedi armor. He examined the translator droid carefully, a frown settling between his brow while he poked and prodded. "Have you looked at the main circuit board?"

"The main - damn it."

They worked together to flip the droid to its side, exposing its back to them. Anakin pried off its back panel, grimacing when a mountain of sand spilled out onto the bench. His brother growled in frustration, muttering about living in a giant dust ball.

Anakin knew something was off. He called the wire brush he had been using to his hand, gently sweeping out the sand from the various nooks and crannies of the translator droid. "Sand isn't your main problem."

"Corroded wires. That damn Jawa!" Owen slammed the butt of his palm against the workbench. "I knew that deal was too good to be true! I wasted-"

"I can fix it."

"What?"

He stared at the mess of wires in front of him, a plan beginning to form in his head. "I can fix this. It may take some time, but I can fix it."

"How in the world can you fix something like that?"

"It's a gift. Now do you have a soldering tool? R2's is too big for something this delicate."

Owen sputtered a moment before throwing his arms up in defeat and going to retrieve it. He shoved a mask towards him to, fitting his own a moment later. He watched in silence while Anakin worked, fidgeting every now and then.

The whir of the machine was a nice distraction from the howling wind outside. Anakin found he enjoyed it immensely, being able to work on something that wasn't owned by the Jedi. Perhaps he would become a mechanic once the war ended. It certainly would pay well, and his wife-

"What's troubling you?" Anakin asked eventually, lifting his mask to look at his brother. "I sense something is wrong."

"Does Obi-Wan know?"

"Know where I am?"

"Does he know about Padmé and you? Does anyone besides us?"

Anakin pressed his lips together, finding himself wanting to fight Ventress than answer this question. "Her staff knows. A few doctors. Her family knows we have more than a...platonic relationship, but they don't know the details."

"Isn't Obi-Wan your closet friend? Couldn't he find them in the public records?"

"What can Master Kenobi find in the public records?"

Anakin stared wide-eyed at his brother, then turned to his padawan. "Ahsoka...how much did you hear?"

"Only the last bit." She set down the tray he had been holding onto a stool and glanced between them. "Why? Is it not for a padawan's ears?"

"Family matters," Owen answered before Anakin could, tossing him a look that clearly said _you owe me._ He looked at the tray ladened with food and frowned. "Is it lunch already?"

"Beru didn't want to bother you guys, so she sent me down with leftovers."

Anakin hadn't realized he was hungry, but the sight of food made his stomach growl. Reaching for a grease rag, he looked at his brother. "I don't know about you, but I could use a break."

Owen nodded, silent again now that the padawan was there. He drained half the pitcher of water the padawan offered him before handing it to Anakin. "Enjoying life as a Tatooine native?" He asked once he had taken a sandwich and leaned against the wall.

Ahsoka shrugged, rubbing at her arm uncertainly. "It's not bad. I can boil water now."

"Rex didn't teach you?" Anakin asked around a mouthful of food.

"No."

"Huh. I'll have to talk to him about that."

"Aren't _you_ supposed to be the master?" Owen asked.

Anakin waved him off. "I'm not the only one who can teach her."

"Is that the excuse you'll use for the next ten years?"

Anakin glared at his brother, none too happy. He didn't plan on being a Jedi for the next ten years - everyone in the homestead knew that but Ahsoka.

"Master?" Ahsoka asked uncertainly.

"What, Snips?"

"Do you think we'll survive this storm?"

Anakin glanced at her in surprise, then at his brother. A truce was settled between them for a moment. "We have enough provisions to last a month, Ahsoka. There's nothing to worry about."

"Enough provisions to last _three people_ a month. Not five."

Owen swallowed what was in his mouth. "Beru can make anything last. I've been stuck in worse storms than this and we always make it through."

 _Well that's the lie of the century,_ Anakin thought, but he kept it to himself. There was no point in worrying his padawan.

* * *

 _Thanks for all the reads and reviews the past few weeks! They make my heart happy._

 _Ta for now, dearies!_

 _ii Digestive Reader ii_


	7. Always Calmest Before the StormRight?

Chapter Seven: Always Calmest Before the Storm...Right?

* * *

Owen woke to silence. Frowning, he rolled onto his back and strained hard to hear the screaming of the wind outside. There was nothing, not even a loose stone hitting against the homestead walls.

Careful not to disturb his snoring girlfriend, he eased out of bed and groped about the dark bedroom until he seized a houserobe.

 _The storm can't be over. I doubt it's over,_ he thought while making his way down the quiet hallway. He could hear the generators clanking away in the dome-garage.

It didn't take long to find his object of interest upon entering the sitting room. He fiddled and cursed at the knobs of the portable radio, trying to find the right frequency.

"How do people rely on these things?" Owen muttered, becoming increasingly frustrated with the static coming through the frayed speakers.

There was a creak and some thumping from somewhere in the homestead, but he promptly ignored it upon hearing a voice from the radio.

"...leave your homes. I repeat, do not leave your homes. The storm's eye has come. Imminent danger will occur if you step out of your homes."

Footsteps clanged up the stairs.

"...says the storm will not last much longer. Be patient. Do not try to kill each other too much."

Owen glanced up when his step-brother walked in, about to say something before seeing the holo figure in his hand.

"...you're cutting out."

"For a mechanic you…inexcusable."

"I'll take that as a compliment." Anakin glanced up at Owen, rolled his eyes, and sat on one of the chairs. "Ahsoka and and I are safe, by the way. Thanks for asking."

"Do I dare ask where you are waiting out the storm, Anakin?"

"I have some contacts."

The figure of Obi-Wan Kenobi sighed. "One of these days, Anakin, you'll be the death of me."

"So you've said."

"Any idea when the storm will be over?"

Anakin shrugged, plopping the comlink on the table and leaning back against the wall. "It's pretty quiet right now - the eye must have come. Two or three days?"

Owen realized the radio was still playing, and flicked it off quickly. There was no sense in the radio waves interfering with the comlink's.

Obi-Wan folded his arms and nodded slowly. "Our analysts predicted that as well. Should anything happen, Anakin, keep us informed. Rex will follow through with your orders when it is safe to proceed."

"Roger roger, Master."

"I swear, Anakin…"

The transmission cut. Anakin chuckled, shoving the communicator in his pocket and looking at Owen. "Couldn't sleep?"

"The silence woke me up."

"That tends to happen to my men after a battle. They have trouble adjusting to peace."

Owen did his best not to let his annoyance show on his face. It wasn't his stepbrother's fault that all he could talk about was the war and the Jedi. That was the life _he_ knew. There wasn't any harm in talking about what was familiar.

Glancing past his stepbrother to a spot on the wall, Owen asked, "You're leaving once this storm is over?"

"I thought that was a given...the Council wouldn't be very happy if I took a sudden leave of absence."

A scoff left his throat before he could stop it. "No, I suppose they wouldn't."

Anakin frowned, folding his arms over his chest. "I'm sensing a bit of hostility, Owen."

 _Oh, you sense it?_ Owen thought irritably. _Good for you, Master Jedi!_ He shook his head and made to rise. "It's nothing, Ken. I'm going back to bed."

"No, you're not." Anakin stood and blocked his path. "We've been at each other's throat the moment I arrived. There's-"

"The moment you arrived unannounced right before a sandstorm? We didn't even know if you were alive!"

"I didn't have time to contact-"

"You were just talking to Obi-Wan! The other night it was Padmé! You have time!"

"I'm on a fucking battlefield half the time!"

"And the other half?!"

Anakin pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to calm his breathing and keep his voice from going any higher. "I'm fighting a war, Owen. I can't stop and travel to-"

"You're fighting the Republic's war! You're a puppet, Anakin! The poster-child for a-"

"Do you think I want to be fighting?! I would be on Naboo right now if I had a choice!"

Owen balled up his fists, and got in his stepbrother's face. It would have been a comical sight had they not been arguing. He was much shorter than the Chosen One, but just as angry. "You have a choice. The Jedi don't rule you."

"The Jedi-

"You're a coward, Anakin, always leaving those you claim to love behind. And for what? Duty? Honor?" A part of Owen was pleased when the Hero-With-No-Fear didn't try to fight back. He sneered at him. "Face it, Ken. You're terrified of a future without the Jedi. Without a war to fight."

Anakin said nothing, clenching his bionic hand and not saying anything.

He smirked, and shoved past his step-brother. He was half-way down the hall when he heard the phrase he had once wanted to hear with all his heart.

"When this storm is over...I won't come back."

Owen paused in the middle of the hallway, contemplating his words. It would be hard to survive without the money from the Naberrie-Skywalker bank accounts, but they could manage. The farm had been going for generations - it would survive. They would survive.

But could he survive, without his stepbrother?

Without his brother?

"Good."

* * *

 _Author's Note: Well, that was a short chapter! We're coming to the end of this story! Whoot!_

 _Ta for now, dearies!_

 _ii Digestive Reader ii_


	8. A Few Days Later

Chapter Eight: A Few Days Later

* * *

"Do you have enough food? Money? Extra clothes and-"

"We have enough of everything to supply an army, Beru." Anakin patted the pack next to him and grinned. "I think we'll be fine."

Beru huffed, folding her arms together while she stared at master and apprentice from across the booth. "There's no harm in being prepared, Anakin."

"I always have a plan."

"An improvised one," Ahsoka muttered, watching the hustle and bustle of Mos Eisley. Natural disaster could only keep people away from doing business for so long. It was amazing how quickly people returned to their lives.

Anakin rolled his eyes. "Did you get that from Master Kenobi?"

"How can a plan be improvised?" Beru asked curiously. She got a shrug in response.

Rubbing a hand at his tired eyes, Anakin found himself thinking about the past few days. His brother had avoided him like the plague, speaking only when necessary and sneering at any attempt of conversation. It had been unbelievable tense in the house. The sandstorm continued to rage, shrieking with a new intensity that disrupted sleep and threatened to knock out emergency powers.

By the time they all woke to a relative calm one late morning, everyone was on each other's last nerves. The family has stumbled outside to breathe in the air fresh air, grateful to be alive and safe.

Owen had gone to observe the damage the storm had left, not letting anyone help him. A few machines were dinged up, but otherwise everything was fine.

Anakin had the dismal job of sweeping his mother's gravestone.

Beru, once she had assured her family of their safety, took an inventory of food and discovered they had only been a day away from starvation. Her words had a sobering effect on the household, only saved by a timely call from the Chosen One's comlink.

"We are detecting the storm has passed, sir. We're sending a transport down in the morning," Rex had said.

Anakin had been about to agree, only to see the quiet looks of his family. He had pressed his lips together before making a decision that the Negotiator would give him hell about. "Evening would probably be better, Rex. It's too hot to be down here in the morning."

"Are you sure, General? Thought you'd want to get off that dust-ball."

"Positive."

"Master?" Ahsoka asked suddenly, startling him out of his thought.

He looked to the young woman, whom was stirring her npn-alcoholic drink with a finger. "What Snips?"

"This whole experience...it doesn't seem like one that the Council would approve of."

Anakin swallowed, glancing at his sister-in-law for support. She was busy people watching, pretending not to listen to their conversation. He scratched his neck and sighed. "How about we just keep it between us, okay?"

"What are you keeping between you two?"

They spun around to see Owen sauntering toward them, balancing drinks for the three adults. R2 trailed after him, beeping merrily. He sat down, shoving Anakin's toward him with little ceremony.

"Nothing particularly exciting," Anakin muttered before taking a large gulp of his drink.

"What are you going to be racing off to now, Anakin?" Beru asked when everyone refused to speak.

"Force knows where. The Council tells us where we go."

Owen snorted into his drink, earning a glare that he didn't seem to mind too much.

"Aren't you do back on Coruscant in a month?"

"If all goes as planned, yes."

Another snort.

"Would you knock it off?" Anakin snapped at his brother.

"What? Your words only prove my point."

"What point?" Ahsoka asked, lost as ever.

Anakin opened his mouth to retort, and found that his wrist-comm was beeping. Glaring at his brother, he pressed the answer button. "Skywalker."

"We're in Mos Eisely hangar, sir. Whenever you're ready."

"Copy that, Rex."

He drained the glass of liquid courage before rising from the bench and hefting the pack on his shoulder. "Well...this is it."

"Don't act like we won't be seeing you again!" Beru exclaimed, forcing her boyfriend to get up from his seat so she could get up.

Anakin glanced uncomfortably at his brother, whom glanced away while Beru through her arms around him. "Yeah...yeah."

"Take care of Padmé, will you?" Beru whispered in his ear.

"Always," he murmured back, kissing the top of her head before she pulled away.

"I'm going to miss you," Ahsoka sniffed, embracing first Beru then a surprised Owen.

"Pester your master to comm us every once and awhile. He'll do anything for the women in his life." Beru tucked her arm into her boyfriend's and winked. "You just have to ask."

"I'll walk you to your ship," Owen said suddenly.

"You don't-" Anakin began before seeing the look in his brother's eye. "Yeah. That'd be great. Thanks. C'mon, R2."

The short walk to the hangar was filled with Ahsoka's chatter. She didn't seem to notice the tension in the air, or she didn't care.

The hangar was filled with people of all species. They were checking engines and making deals and making a ruckus that normally would have soothed Anakin's mind.

But his thoughts were on the future, one that didn't seem so bright. He was having a hard time shaking the words of his brother, who was stony faced while they walked.

"There it is!" Ahsoka exclaimed suddenly. She darted toward the transport, not even bothering to wait for her master. R2-D2 trailed after her, whistling all the way. The clones, Rex and Jesse, greeted her enthusiastically. They were dressed in civilian garb, probably to prevent harassment from the Tatooine locals.

Owen spoke suddenly. "If Padmé and you had a daughter, it would be Ahsoka."

Anakin glanced at him, not quite sure what to say. "Thanks?"

"Be grateful for that, Ken."

He stopped walking and faced his brother, utterly perplexed. "For what?"

Owen sighed, glancing at the transport. "That you can have kids, Anakin. Not everyone has the luxury."

"I...don't know what to say. I'm sorry."

"It's life. You grieve, but it goes on. It always goes on."

"Yeah...it always does." Anakin shoved his hands into his pockets. "I fixed the translator droid, by the way."

Owen gave him a skeptical look. "You didn't have to do that."

"No, I didn't," Anakin agreed. "I wanted to."

"We're always going to be like this, hmm? Always fighting and getting on each other's nerves?"

"It's what brothers do."

"I don't think all brothers fight about what we do."

Anakin chuckled, shaking his head. "No...nope."

"What do you say then?" Owen stuck out his hand. "Brothers?"

"Brothers," Anakin agreed, grasping his hand. He pumped it once before pulling Owen into a bone-crushing hug.

"I hate you," Owen muttered.

"I know."

"Who's that?" Captain Rex asked when Anakin came to the transport.

Anakin glanced at his padawan, noting that she refused to answer. Nodding his thanks to her, he grasped one of the handles. "An old friend."

"I've been around Jedi long enough to know that's not true," Rex muttered. "Ready pilot?"

* * *

 _Author's Note: Heigh ho, heigh ho, off to school I go!_

 _Thanks for the MASSIVE response on Ssunday. Holy shit, I was not expecting that. Enjoy this chapter._

 _Toodles, my dears!_

 _ii Digestive Reader ii_


	9. Epilogue

One month later...

* * *

The Senate had put forth for the notion to do a live broadcast explaining what had occurred on the battlefield in neutral space. There was little surprise among the senators when the conversation shifted from the debts of the Jedi Order to the Jedi's involvement with the Hutt Clan.

Captain Gregar Typho wasn't shocked when his mistress launched her pod to defend the Jedi, and thus her own involvement in uncovering the plot by the Separatists. He found himself sharing a look with one of the handmaidens, Teckla. They were both hoping the Senator of Naboo wouldn't mention her husband too much.

"How is it that you were the one to learn the dangers General Skywalker faced?" It was Rush Clovis, one of Senator Amidala's primary opponents.

Senator Amidala didn't react at her husband's name. "I happened to be in the Chancellor's office when…"

Typho zoned out again when the Senate floor erupted into questions for the Senator. He wanted to stay focused, he truly did, but the security checks had been completed only a few minutes prior to the meeting and another wouldn't be due for some time.

He pulled out a datapad, squinting at the bright light when it came on. There was a message from the Nubian staff requesting extra security for a banquet, a file sent from his uncle, and-

Dormé had peering over his shoulder, and snatched the datapad from his hands. "My gods! Gregar, look at this!"

"I was looking at it," he muttered. "You took it out of my hands, Dormé."

"What is it?" Teckla asked, her voice notably quieter than theirs.

Dormé shoved the datapad at her, the subdued demeanor of a handmaiden forgotten as she bounced on her toes in excitement. "The Senator's going to be so happy!"

"Can you keep a secret that long?" Typho asked, lips quirking as the handmaiden stuck her tongue out at him.

Teckla handed back the datapad, looking to the other handmaiden pointedly. "If General Skywalker wants his homecoming to be a surprise, a surprise it will be."

He chuckled, glancing down at the screen again when a new message popped up. "Skywalker will be at the apartment before us."

"Tell the staff at the apartment. We don't want a repeat of last time."

"I know, I know."

While he was penning a message to the rest of the Nubian staff, a final message popped up from Skywalker. _Enjoy your night off, Captain._

Typho rolled his eyes, abandoning the message to the staff momentarily and tapping the General's message. _Does the entire staff get the night off?_

The reply was almost immediate. _Do you think I want everyone listening?_

Dormé had been reading the messages as they appeared, and snorted in amusement. "He'll never change, will he?"

Typho shook his head in agreement, and set to work penning the messages once again. The Senate had calmed while he and the handmaidens were talking, discussing what was due for the next time they met and an upcoming election for Coruscanti District Governors. His legs were starting to go numb for standing upright that long. Dormé and Teckla tittered beside him, trying to plan their night off. By the time he had shoved the datapad back into his belt, Senator Amidala's pod was docking.

The handmaidens donned their bored expressions and hurried to help the Senator up from her pod. She thanked them, though her mind was clearly elsewhere.

"Permission to speak, m'lady?" Teckla asked quietly when they emerged from the pod entrance and into the chaos that was the Senators of the Republic.

Senator Amidala frowned at the formality when she glanced at the handmaiden. "Yes, Teckla?"

"How do you think the live debate went?"

"Oh…" Senator Amidala pursed her lips, nodding to a senator that called her name in greeting. "Well, I believe. Promoting the public to vote for the next election should have been addressed earlier in the broadcast but…" She trailed off, taking a deep breath and shaking her head. "What are you going to do, hmm?"

The handmaidens glanced at each other, though neither of them spoke. Captain Typho quickened his step until he was striding next to his mistress, lowering his voice to a whisper in the crowded halls of the Senate. "Do you want your meetings cancelled for today, m'lady?"

Senator Amidala glanced at him, startled at the notion."Cancelled? Why would I want my meetings cancelled?" She stopped at an elevator, nodding to a Twi-Lek Senator while they waited.

Dormé touched the hand of the Senator gently when the door to the elevator slid open. "I think you should, Senator. You're not in the right mind - no work will get done."

Senator Amidala didn't say anything until they had stepped into the elevator, punched in the number for the senate parking lot floor and were moving up the levels. "I am perfectly capable of deflecting questions about Anakin in meetings, if that's what you three are worried about."

"M'lady, when was the last time you took a break?"

She didn't respond, keeping her back straight and eyes on the door. Captain Typho refrained from sighing, looking at the handmaidens hopelessly. It would be nearly impossible to convince the Senator to cancel her meetings without a reason. He pulled out his datapad and tapped out a quick message to Skywalker, which read: _cancel your wife's meetings for today._

 _Already did,_ Skywalker typed back. _There's nothing scheduled for the next thirty-six hours._

Typho tried not to growl. Why did that stupid man always take everything into his own hands?

Did he disapprove of his mistress entering into a marriage with a Jedi? Of course. Anakin was hot-headed, arrogant, loud, and quick to anger. Typho wondered what the Senator saw in the Jedi knight.

Anakin was constantly coming in going, not coming home for weeks on end and sometimes not able to make contact for the same amount of time. When he did make contact, he was always exhausted, never being able to stay in contact for longer than an hour.

Typho shook himself from his thoughts when the elevator dinged open. He stepped forward first, knowing it was expected of him. The halls were quiet on the floor, and there wasn't much of a need for security. Still, he walked through the halls, to the parking lot, and onto the Senatorial shuttle. It was a quick ride to the apartment. He halfheartedly listened to the handmaidens continue to plead the Senator to relax.

He didn't bother to tell the Senator what her husband had done - he'd let Skywalker do it.

He probably should have let the Senator go into the apartment first. The staff was peeking out of all corners of the apartments, looking anxiously into the living room for the reunion. Moteé was setting hor'derves and wine on the coffee table, and straightened rapidly when the door hissed open.

General Skywalker met the eyes of Typho, looking crestfallen for a moment before his wife strode in.

"...appreciate the concern, but I-" Senator Amidala stopped in her tracks, losing her words while she stared at the couch's occupant.

Skywalker grinned, rising stiffly from his seat. Half-moons were stamped under his eyes and there was dirt on his clothes and skin, but he was there, alive and well. "Hey Angel."

Senator Amidala recovered herself, a watery smile breaking over her face. "Anakin!"

When the General caught the Senator in his arms, there was not a single dry eye in the room. She was laughing and crying at the same time, murmuring, "You're safe, you're safe," over and over again.

Anakin chuckled, wiping away her tears and pressing a kiss to her brow. "I am."

Typho smiled, blinking back the tears that came to his eyes. He glanced at Dormé when she touched his hand, raising his eyebrows in question.

"Still doubt them?"

Panaka glanced back over to the pair, who were now being swarmed by the rest of the staff. The General had a protective arm around his wife while they chatted and laughed with everyone - he didn't look he was letting go of her anytime soon.

"Well?"

Typho pressed his lips together before making his way forward. The people surrounding the couple fell silent - his disapproval of the pair was well known. He felt his lips curl into a smile upon sticking his hand out. "It's good to have you back, General."

Anakin blinked, sharing a surprised look with his wife before letting out a laugh and grasping the outstretched hand. "Good to be back, Captain." He pulled the Senator closer, his smile softening. "It's good to be back."

* * *

 _Author's Note: Well, it's not Wednesday, but oh well. Here's the last chapter of "A Week On Taootine." Hope you guys enjoy it!_

 _Ta for now, dearies!_

 _ii Digestive Reader ii_


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